christmas in my heart
by tombombadillo
Summary: Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.
1. fairytale of new york

**THE FIRST MULTI-CHAPTER PUGS HUZZAH (song fic based in and around various Christmas times in the Puggy!Verse though not necessarily in order and not necessarily always including pugs).**

**For Vallie, because I love her so very much and I wish I could hug her and make everything better.**

**Disclaimer: is five weeks over yet?**

* * *

_When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas eve__  
You promised me Broadway was waiting for me_

"It's 9pm on Christmas Eve and you want to drag me out into the cold and the snow to do… what?" Kate Beckett asked, wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"Broadway, Kate. Come on, Broadway on Christmas Eve. It'll be magic."

She huffed and tugged her coat down from the hanger. "I'd rather find magic elsewhere." She fixed him with a rather pointed look as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. "You've got Latte all excited now. She thinks she's going for a walk."

"We're taking her with us." Castle grinned, already pulling Latte's coat out of the closet. Latte bounds up around him, paws dancing to and fro on his feet.

"To Broadway?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not. We're not going inside anywhere."

Kate groaned and tipped her head back. "Are you kidding me? Castle, it's _freezing_ out there. Can't we just stay inside where it's warm?"

"You just want to get my clothes off."

She glared at him as she wrenched open the front door. "Anybody would think you had a problem with that."

* * *

He's at least carrying Latte instead of letting her walk. They'd be here forever if she was, sniffing at every single thing that she could possibly get her nose into takes a lot of time that they honestly do not have. She's refusing to hold his free hand, has them stuffed in her coat pockets. If he accused her of it, she'd deny it to the extreme, but she's sulking. He knows she's is. She knows she's is. And it shouldn't amuse him as much as it does. But he does know her, and sulking or not she is enjoying this. Broadway is crowded with people, Santa hats, reindeer headbands are in abundance around them. People around them are cooing over Latte and the young pug is revelling in it. She wants to get down, wriggles hard in Castle's arms but he keeps a firm arm around him, hoists him up and over his shoulder so she can at least watch what's going on around her. It doesn't take long for Castle to pull a Santa hat out of his own pocket. He hands Kate the hat with a smile and she happily tugs it onto her head, grinning at him. Castle wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her towards him. She comes willingly, the height of her heels giving her the perfect height to rest her head on Castle's shoulder. She tips her head into his neck, trying to share his warmth. He smells of apple and spice and cinnamon (not to mention the very obvious doggy whiff) and _Christmas._

Kate loves these moments, those moments that even when she's surrounded by people, even when she's being jostled from all sides by elbows and knees and heads, they're still in their own bubble. She can pretend, if she wants, that there's nothing else beyond the curve of his arm around her shoulders and down to the curve of her waist, his fingers against her rib cage. He's humming in her ear, a low thrumming noise that sounds something like Sinatra? Maybe. It's not until she turns her focus away from him and onto the noises around her. She's not surprised at the amount of people who are rather intoxicated, finds it easy to ignore it when she feels this happy and this relaxed. She doesn't care.

"Mom! Mom! Look at the dog! Mom!"

Kate turns her head and looks over Castle's shoulder, finds two young girls gawking at Latte. She nudges Castle and he turns around. The girls are dressed in similar attire, identical elf hats stuck on over brilliantly white hair. Pale faces, big blue eyes. They could be elves from the north pole, they really could. "You wanna say hello?"

The two girls mouths drop open simultaneously, and Castle lifts his gaze to who he figures are the girls parents. He raises an eyebrow in question and they both smile and nod. "Go on, girls. Say hello."

Kate steps away from Castle slightly, lets him turn around. Castle lifts Latte off his shoulder and sets her down on the ground. She's still on her lead and she can't go far but she goes straight to the girls. "What's her name?" One of them asks, looking up at Castle like he just handed her a star.

"She's called Latte."

"Latte?" One of the parent questions. "After the coffee?"

Kate chuckles. "In-joke. We like coffee."

"You're the writer, right? Richard… something."

"Richard Castle, that's me. And this is Kate Beckett."

Kate smiles, trying to fight down the urge to turn her face into Castle's shoulder. She knew what it would be like, being in a relationship with a world famous best-selling author, but she's not necessarily used to being scrutinised by people before. She's long since stopped looking at page six, no longer searches for anything to do with them online. She cares, sure. But she's found bad things about them before. Like the time the paparazzi predicted their impending doom surely because they had a five minute bicker outside a restaurant. It was a half arsed argument at that. He wanted to walk back from the restaurant, and she wanted to catch a cab. She barely remembers it. Their relationship has never been normal, and people luxuriate in going into deep detail about the ins and outs of said relationship. So, she's given up on looking for it. Let them say what they will. She knows what her relationship with Castle is about, and she knows that neither of them plan on breaking the others heart any time soon. That, at least, she is sure of. Of course, there's all the questions about why hasn't Castle popped the question yet, is she or isn't she pregnant, and why a _pug_ of all dogs that she can't escape.

"I'm Yvonne, and this is Martin. And these two are Lizzy and Rebecca. And they've been hopelessly asking us about getting a dog for months."

"They say we can't." Lizzy pouts from where she's kneeling on the ground and scratching Latte behind the ear. "It's _so_ unfair."

"Right, and who's going to look after it while we're at work and you're at school?" Martin quizzes, tugging on the end of Rebecca's hat. "Maybe, when you're older."

Lizzy huffs, looks at Latte imploringly. "I'd love a dog like Latte."

Rebecca nods in agreement. "Me too. But not Latte. I don't like coffee."

Yvonne laughs, nudges Lizzy's back with her knee. "Come on, you two. Let's leave them to enjoy the night. Time we got off home."

Castle lifts Latte back up as the girls stand up. They take a few more seconds to say their goodbyes, Latte's tail wagging against Castle's elbow. Kate watches the family go with a happy smile, the two girls hanging onto a parents arm each and pleading about the dog. Castle reaches down to grasp her hand, tangles her fingers with his. "They should get a pug. Pugs are good with kids."

Kate cants her body into his, letting him support most of her weight. Latte's looking at her, happy and bright, tongue panting and her eyes full of the Christmas lights above her. "Yeah, Castle. Yeah they are."

* * *

_Sinatra was singing, all the drunks they were singing_

_We kissed on a corner, then danced through the night_

They make their way through the crowds, a slow meander that lets them stay glued at the hip and not have to walk one in front of the other. Occasionally they stop, mostly for Castle and occasionally for Latte, but they're uninterrupted for the most part. He's happy to let the Christmas spirit wash over them, forget the fact that there's murder and crime out there. He knows this is a hard time for Kate, knows that for the twelve years since she lost her mother neither her father or herself have even thought about Christmas. But now she's letting him share it with her, lets him show her just how magical this season is. And he can see it, how lighter she is. When she turns her head against his shoulder just to breath him in, tips her head backwards just to look at the lights, and when he catches her not so subtly humming along to whatever the bands playing. He knows Ryan is up there somewhere, singing along to Galway Bay in true NYPD choir style. It's nearly eleven by the time they get to the other side of the crowd, and Latte has lost her energy, has nearly fallen asleep on Castle's shoulder. Castle's pulling her over to a secluded corner, away from the prying eyes of those around them. She can't help but smile as he leans into her, bites on his lip as he presses his mouth against hers.

Latte stirs between them and Kate's hit by an image – _waking up to Castle lying on his back one arm cradling the bundle of blankets to his chest with one arm. She leans over, kisses him, soft and warm, the dawn light filtering in through the closed blinds. She doesn't mean to wake the baby, she could quite easily go back to sleep, but he or she stirs, blue eyes blinking open lazily, tiny mouth smacking together. She sighs happily, feels Castle's fingertips feathering at her cheek, looking at the both of them like she's the sun and the moon and the stars and everything underneath them_ – Kate pulls back away from him, her head thumping back against the brick wall. Castle winces, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. "Kate, you okay?"

She laughs, turns her head to press a kiss against his wrist. "Yeah, yeah I'm – I'm good. Just… Latte moving made me think."

His eyes are soft, that slight rise at the corner of his mouth reassuring her that he knows exactly what she's thinking of. "Yeah?"

She hums, moves so he can wrap an arm around her neck and tug her closer. "Yeah. Have you ever thought about it?"

"You know I'd like the option. But I've got Alexis, and I've got you, and Latte obviously. Got all the family I need, really."

"But if… if it happened…"

"Then I'd be over the moon. But if you don't… if it's not what you want… wait, this isn't…" he pulled back, stared at her incredulously, "you're not telling me you're pregnant, are you?"

Kate laughed. "No. No, I'm not. But just so I know… if it happens… you're not going to freak out on me."

Now it's Castle's turn to laugh. "Kate, why would I freak out? I love you, and we live together, and we have a pug. And what's the difference between a pug and a baby? Really?"

* * *

_and the boys from the NYPD choir were singing galway bay_

_and the bells were ringing out for christmas day_


	2. baby, it's cold outside

**No pugs in this one, alas.**

**Disclaimer: IT'S SNOWING EVERYWHERE EXCEPT WHERE I LIVE. ENGLAND, I'M DISAPPOINTED.**

* * *

"Castle, I really can't stay."

He refuses to give Kate her coat, standing in front of the closet and effectively blocking her way. He grins and tugs at her hands. "But baby, it's cold outside."

She narrows her eyes at him because she's not going to play along. She's not. She's – oh, bugger it. "I've got to go away."

"But baby, it's _cold_ outside."

"It's not that cold, Castle." She huffs. "It's just snowing. And it's not even sticking."

"Not the point. I don't want you to go."

"Kinda figured that. And you'll see me tomorrow."

He groans and tries to tug her back towards the middle of the loft. "If I'm seeing you tomorrow then there's no point in you leaving."

"Castle, I have paperwork to do. If you want me here for Thanksgiving dinner, then I have to get all of my work done beforehand."

"You can work here."

"Sure, only my work is at my apartment and I am here." She raises an eyebrow at him, backs away towards the closet. "Be a man about it, Castle."

"I don't want to be a man. I'm going to be whiny and go and sulk in bed." Castle sticks his bottom lip out, just to get the point across, and Kate laughs at him as she pulls her coat out.

"Fine. Go be a toddler." She crosses back towards him with her coat in her arms, tugs on the lapel on his shirt. She doesn't let him kiss her for long, knows that he's going to try and seduce her into staying. And it's all very well, only she really does need to do work. And she knows if she gets dragged into bed then she's not going to leave.

He whines when she pulls away, but she pats his cheek in recompense. "You can have your wicked way with me tomorrow, I promise."

"Or, I could come back with you!"

"I need to do work, Castle. Not you."

He whines, but lets her go. Kate kisses him again when she's at the door, quick and chaste. "I'll see you tomorrow. Promise."

* * *

Three am. Three am and she's been asleep for maybe half an hour and her arms are stiff from writing for the past three hours and her legs are cramped and her back is sore and she doesn't even want to think about getting up from her bed and her damn phone is ringing. Please don't be a body. Please, please don't be a body. She doesn't even look at the screen as she fumbles with the phone, presses it against her ear. "Beckett?"

"What if you didn't have to leave?" It's Castle, and he sounds excited and he's breathless. It's like when he storms into the precinct halfway through a case with a breakthrough idea that solves it, and all she wants to do is bottle up the excitement and keep it for herself, something to look at on a rainy day when she needs that little extra push.

"Castle? It's three in the morning."

"I know, I'm sorry. I've been thinking, and I couldn't bear to not phone you and-"

"Castle, what are you on about?"

"What if you didn't have to leave? What if you stayed?"

Oh, it's too early for this. "Castle… Castle, are you asking me to move in?" Kate's sitting up, her heart pounding in her chest. He can't be serious. He can't be ringing her at three in the morning and asking her to move him. He's not.

"Yes. I am. I'm tired of having to let you leave because you need to go work. I want – I want you to bring your work _home_ with you. I want to go to bed and wake up next to you every morning. I want to bring you breakfast in bed, and I want us to get a dog."

"A … a dog?"

"Just a small one." He's practically giddy with out, and even though she can only hear him, she knows that he's pacing. Pacing and rocking to and fro on the balls of his feet, fists clenching and unclenching. It's all very well and done, but when he gets excited in bed (and _not_ like _that_), he won't keep still and in the end she has get him excited in other ways. Ways that are mutually beneficial for both of them and wears him out enough for him to stop jiggling quite so much.

Kate draws her knees up against her chest and props her chin on top. She feels dizzy, her blood is beating hard in her veins, her heartbeat a constant drumming against her ribcage. She's never done this before. No one has ever thought to ask her, and now Castle and she's… oh god-

"Kate, stop freaking out." He's laughing at her, low and amused, and the panic settling in her stomach is relieved slightly. "I'm not asking for an answer right now. Just promise me you'll think about it. Please?"

"I'll think about it, Castle. I will. But I –"

"You've never done this before. I know. I'm not going to rush you. Just letting you know that the offers there."

" You want me to just … turn up at the doorstep with boxes of stuff and just… put them anywhere?"

"Well, if you want."

Kate laughs, presses her forehead against her knees. Okay. She can do this.

* * *

She doesn't tell him when she makes her mind up. She doesn't know herself when exactly she made her own mind up, just came home from work one afternoon and shoved the majority of her clothes in bags. Castle's been away for a week, a book tour on the west coast, and he's back late tonight and she plans on surprising him. Completely surprising him. It's been a month since he asked, and true to his word he hasn't questioned her, or bugged or been upset because she hasn't said yes or no. And now she's going to go back to his – their? – loft and make room in his wardrobes for her stuff, and then fall asleep and wait for him. It's weird, when she walks back out of the door. I mean it all looks the same, really. She hasn't taken anything out of the rest of the apartment, just enough clothes so she can get by at the loft until they can arrange to get everything else. But knowing that this is that – that she's going to be not living here anymore. Christmas. Thanksgiving. Easter. Memorial Day. All at the loft.

He's tired, and he's cranky, and he hates travelling, and his taxi driver got himself lost from the airport to his loft, and now it's _snowing _and _now_ he's stubbing his toe on a … suitcase? What the hell is a suitcase doing in the middle of his floor. He curses all the way from his bedroom door to the bathroom, switches the bathroom light on with a thump of his fist. Huh. Kate's toothbrush. Not the one she uses when she's staying at his, but the one that sits in her own bathroom. That's strange. Along with the pile of make-up that has been dumped on his bathroom counter. He knows Kate's fussy with her make-up. Knows that back at her apartment it's arranged meticulously. So what's it doing piled in his bathroom? He turns around, lets the light from the bathroom spill out into his bedroom. And oh… oh, Kate is a curled up bundle in his bed, her hair a dark halo on his pillows. He pushes his wardrobe doors open, tries to find his breath when all he can see is Kate's clothes. Oh. Oh, it's Christmas and she's moved in. She's asleep in _their_ bed. And in the morning he gets to wake up and cook her breakfast. And they'd get to decorate the loft for Christmas together. And they're going to get a dog.

He doesn't care about a shower. Doesn't care that he smells of plane and airports and a late night taxi. His breath smells, he knows, but he just… he needs her. Needs to feel her. She's wearing one of his shirts (not that he'd expected anything different, she rarely sleeps in anything else), using her hand to pull the collar up around her mouth. And he does know how much she loves the way he smells. He pulls off his jacket, and then drops it on the floor, soon following with his shirt. His shoes clunk on the wall, and he winces as Kate's leg kicks out under the covers. But she doesn't wake. He sits on the edge of the bed to pull off his trousers and socks, tries not to hurry because he really doesn't want to wake her up. He's finally down to his boxers, and he pulls down the covers so he can slide in next to her. She comes to him, like she always does, even in her sleep. Seeks him out like a heat seeking missile.

"You smell." She mumbles into his shoulder, barely skirting on the edges of consciousness and sleep. "Go shower."

"I was going to. Wanted to see you more. I stubbed my toe on your suitcase. And you've left your make-up in a giant pile."

"I'll sort it out in the morning," she grunts, and pushes him away. "stop stinking up the bed."

He can't remember the last time he managed a shower in less than five minutes, but four minutes and fifteen seconds later he's walking back into the bedroom – their bedroom, oh man – towel drying his hair. Kate has shifted onto her side of the bed (and has taken most of the covers with her), but it just gives him the opportunity to slide in right behind her. She's fallen asleep again and he nudges his nose against her hairline behind her nose. She doesn't stir, pulled too far under, and he wraps an arm around her waist, warm and happy and content.

He stubs his toe again in the early afternoon (the first time he's managed to leave the bedroom after Kate woke him up rather forcefully this morning), and he really couldn't care less.


	3. let the christmas spirit ring

**This isn't songfic, but Vallie had a prompt so here it is :D**

**Disclaimer: Spooks wiped out three of my favourite characters in one series I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT.**

* * *

"Castle, if you're going to do this then you're going to have to stop them throwing at each other. I'm not cleaning it up."

Castle twisted around in his seat (he was not distracted by her bending over to reach in the fridge, he honestly wasn't) his hand shooting out to stop Mary throwing a blob of dough at her younger brother. "No dough fights."

Mary huffs and instead throws it onto the table where it lands with a splat. "I want blue."

"You want blue what, Mary?" Kate reprimands, walking past the table.

"I want the blue food colouring, _perlease."_

Castle flicks her ear. "Stop sassing your mother." He hands her the small plastic bottle and she takes it eagerly. "Just a couple of drops, okay? James, what about you?"

James runs his eyes over the line of bottles next to Castle's elbow. "Orange, please."

"You guys are sure getting in the Christmas spirit." Castle sighed, unscrewing the bottle and handing it to him. "Orange and blue. Don't forget these are going on the tree."

Mary stuck her tongue out him, already kneading the blue into the dough. "I want mine to be blue. It matches the tinsel."

Castle frowned. "We don't have blue tinsel."

"Yeah, we do." Said Kate, placing both hands on Castle's shoulders and leaning over. "I bought some. I was fed up with red and gold and silver."

"What's wrong with red and gold and silver?!"

"Absolutely nothing. Just accept a little _change_ in your life, Castle." She kissed the top of his head. "I'm off. Have fun with your Christmas decorations."

James pushes his chair away from the table with a loud scrape, windmills himself around the table until he launches himself onto Kate's legs. "No, Momma! Stay! You can make a Christmas decoration too!"

"Maybe later, Jamie. I gotta go to work."

James sulks, propping his chin on her stomach. "Won't let you go. Stay."

Kate ruffled his hair, turned him around towards the table. "Two hours, James. Two hours and I'll be back home. Promise."

"You going catching bad guys?"

"Not today. Just a lot of paperwork. Go on, by the time you've finished these and made them I'll be home. And maybe we'll put the tree up today."

Castle jerks around in his seat, and if she didn't know any better she'd say he was _bouncing_ and sheesh, last time she looked she had two kids. Not three. "_If_ you're good." She looks at him with narrowed eyes, both of them knowing that she means him more than them. "And I'm not too tired."

* * *

"Okay, roll out your dough. What cutter do you want?"

Mary purses her lips, focuses her attention on the cutters in front of her. "Um… the star."

Castle starts to push the cutter across the table towards her, but James reaches across and snatches it from her. "I want the star!"

"James! Don't snatch. Let Mary use the star and then you can have a turn."

"I'll use it first." He insists, squishing the plastic against the orange dough, his tongue stuck between his teeth. "I've got it."

"James, how many times have we told you to _not_ snatch?" James ignores him, twists the cutter to and fro to cut the shape. "James… you've got five seconds to drop the star and give it to your sister or you can sit on the naughty step."

"Can't drop it if I'm not holding it." James grins, taking his hands away from the table and folding them in his lap.

"Right. Naughty step. Six minutes." James tries to pull the puppy dog face, his eyes going big and wide and his bottom lip sticking out. Castle takes none of it, looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go."

James takes his time in pushing the chair back from the table, the screech of the legs on the floor making Castle wince. Macchiato has been lying under James's chair ever since he sat down and she goes to follow him, but Castle whistles her back. James stamps his foot, temper tantrum imminent. "I want my dog!"

"You know the rules, James. No dogs when you're on the naughty step. Now, go."

Mary reaches over the table to get the star, careful to make sure that James's star isn't ruined. Apparently this isn't what James wanted, and he grabs Mary's arm and yanks it away. Mary screams, pulls her arm back. The motion sends James into the table, eliciting more screams from both of them and the bowl full of yet to be used dough falls – almost in slow motion – off the table. Castle wraps an arm around James middle, carries him under the arm towards the stairs. He doesn't wait for him to sit up, leaves him lying down on the small square of wood. James stays there, his head hidden under the hood of his jumper.

It's too late to save the dough. Or rather, it's not, but the triple set of doggy footprints looks rather interesting in the circular-ish splodge that's landed on the floor with a very loud splat. They've trained them well enough to not try and eat it, and apart from the occasional nose print it's almost perfect. The question is now… how exactly does he get the dough from the floor and into the oven? "Mary, you okay?"

Mary nods silently, has already cut two stars out of her rolled out dough. "I'm okay, Daddy. Can I put two colours in it?"

"I don't think that would work, sweetheart. But maybe we could make some more when Mommy comes home?"

Mary smiles and nods her head. "Mommy can make her own."

"Yeah, yeah she could. How about we put these in the oven? They'll be ready when Mommy gets back, right?"

"Yeah. You wanna help me with this? I'll need a chopping board. The big white one."

"Are you going to cook that one?" Mary asks him as she runs across to the kitchen counter, pulls the chopping board out of the rack.

"I was thinking about it. You and James make your Christmas tree decorations, me and mom will make our own, and now the pugs have got one too. We could hang it up on the door."

"But it looks boring. It needs colour."

Castle studies it carefully, and then looks towards the dogs who are still sniffing around the dough. "Alright, well, why don't we scrap that lot, mix it up with some new colours and then let them have another go. That sound good?"

"Yeah. But can we wait until Mommy gets home?"

"Oh, but I thought we were going to put the tree up when Mommy gets back?"

Mary gnaws on her lip. "Can we phone Mommy and see what she says?"

"Yeah, sure. You go get the phone, I'm going to go and talk to your brother."

* * *

Castle taps James's thigh lightly, waits until the boys gaze shifts to him. "Come on, kiddo. Sit up." James's struggles up, uses his sleeves to pull himself into a sitting position so he could slump against his side. "Why are you sat here, James?"

"Cos I hurt Mary…" he mumbled into Castle's arm.

"And?"

"And… I don't know."

Castle sighed. "Yes, you do, James. Other than hurting Mary, why did I put you on the naughty step?"

"Because… I took the star from you. And I wouldn't give it back."

"And do you hurt Mary?" James shook his head. "And do you snatch?" Another shake of the head. "So, what are you going to do?"

James propped his head up on Castle's arm. "I'm sorry for snatching."

"And who else do you need to apologise to?"

"Mary."

"Go on then," Castle prompted, nudging his back with his hand. "Maybe you can talk to Mommy."

* * *

Kate's glad for the phone call. There's only so much paperwork she can take before she goes mad, and even a see who can get the most scrunched up paper balls in the bin match between Ryan and Esposito isn't keeping her as entertained as it usually does. Gates has her own head deep in her paperwork and Kate grabs her cell to take it somewhere private.

"Can you not last an hour without me, Castle?"

"I can manage perfectly fine. We just had a question."

"We being Mary, I presume? Go on, shoot."

"Hang on – she'll ask her yourself."

"Mommy! Are you sure we're going to put up the tree when you get home because I had an idea and I wanted to wait until you came home to do it, but Dad says that we should do it now so then we can put the tree up when we get home, and if we're not going to put the tree up then we'll wait until you're home but we just wanted to know, and –"

"Yeah, Mary. We'll put the tree up, I promise. Just you get everything ready, okay? Help Daddy get everything down."

"We will, we will! When are you coming home?"

"As soon as I can, Mary. As soon as I can. You get this idea done, and when I'm home we'll sort the tree out. Deal?"

"Deal, Mommy. Very big deal."

* * *

"Look, Latte's got a halo!"

Castle peers over the top of a box of Christmas decorations trying to get a good look at the dog. James has stuck a circle of tinsel on the pugs head. "Maybe we could put her on top of the tree. We got any fairy wings?"

"I think Mary's got them. Putting them on Mocha."

"Two fairies on top of the tree. What's Macchiato going to do?"

"Macchiato's not going on the tree. She lives with me. In my bed."

"Ohh, so Mary and me and your mommy don't get our dogs with us?" Castle folds his arm, raising an amused eyebrow at his son. "That's a bit unfair, don't you think?"

James shook his head, turned around to pick Macchiato up. "My dog stays with me."

* * *

"That's my star!" James says, prodding the now cooked dough. "And that's my Christmas tree. And those two are Mary's and this is Latte's and Macchiato's and Mocha's. It's going on the door."

Kate looked over at the circular piece of dough with a fascinated look. "Okay, I can see the paw prints. But what's that bit?"

"Mocha put his nose in it." Mary grinned, almost as if she was proud of her dog. "He wanted to know what it was."

"He didn't eat any of it though." Castle pointed out, leaning over Kate's shoulder.

"Ah, it's only dough. Wouldn't have done him that much harm. What are we doing with the wreath?"

Castle shrugged, nudged the box with his foot. "It's getting a bit old, isn't it? All the leaves and the berries are falling off. Besides, this is a lot more persona than some twigs. Paw prints and a nose print. It's funny. More amusing. And there's nothing really stopping us from keeping it up all year round. Don't you think?"


End file.
